SALT #5
This wasn’t a one-time thing. Eliano was beaten regularly. Why? Was it his stubborn, unyielding nature? Did he resist Anzo? Did he resist the cage fights?
Staring out the window, I struggle with my conscience as it weighs heavily on me. Do I want to be a cold, indifferent bastard, or do I want to be a decent person, the way Senu would be right now?
Finally, I force out through clenched teeth:
"You’re right. I haven’t lived your life, and I’m sorry.
It’s hard for me to fully put myself in your place.
I’ve had some street-fight training myself, and for me it was fun.
I always thought fighting came naturally to alphas, like breathing.
But I see now your experience was completely different. It wasn’t fun. It was punishment."
As I speak, I mold my turbulent tone into something calmer.
It isn’t easy. Being an asshole feels like my default setting, my only defense for most of my life, a wall between me and everyone else…
except Senu. He was the only one who ever saw it come down, and had my love, patience, softness, and care.
After I finish my last sentence, I see Eliano let out a small breath, as if my words meant something to him. His gaze lifts from the laptop, and for a moment, our eyes meet.
"I’m glad you’re at least trying to understand," he says in a neutral tone, and adds nothing more.
Well, that conversation could have gone better, but it is what it is.
I can’t change who I am in an instant, and to be honest, I shouldn’t.
I’ll be off this island soon. Eliano and I will probably never see each other again.
So maybe, however bittersweet it is, it’s okay to leave our relationship imperfect?
In any case, no point in sweating over it anymore.
Half an hour later, Evan knocks on our door to pick us up for Last Man Standing.
We join him, both of us in weird moods.
As we walk, Evan speaks a bit about how the whole event works and about the fighting contest, which does not help with Eliano’s mood.
Roman comes closer to me, as if wanting to get friendly, which is a bad idea for me, since I do not have time for this.
He tries to talk about how he can’t wait for tomorrow, saying he loves dancing and that it will be an opportunity… blah blah. The fuck do I care!
With every passing hour, I become more aware that the longer I stay, the more urgent my escape becomes. I cannot afford to sink into this place, and cannot let myself get involved in a life that was never meant to be mine.
It all makes me jumpy and jittery.
We finally approach the central part of the promenade, shaped like a spacious plaza. There is already a sizable crowd gathered around tables with food.
My eyes land on the delicious snacks around me, and I feel a pleasant wave of the barbecue atmosphere that I could allow myself to enjoy, if only…
Eliano grabs two trays, one obviously meant for me, and glances at me, pointing at the tasty-looking golden-baked stuffed rice balls.
"They look like Arancini di carne, a Sicilian dish I adore," he says, taking a bite and making an approving sound, "Pretty good, wanna taste it?"
And he raises one of them, moving his hand close to my mouth. I feel a mix of irritation and excitement.
Making it slow, I open my mouth, and Eliano puts it inside with a peculiar expression, and I make a point of closing my lips around his finger, which he pulls out with a soft popping sound.
Really, Salt?
What’s wrong with me? It’s a seriously valid question. A fucking rollercoaster.
Keep your distance? No!
Throw yourself at him! No!
And all over again. And my revenge on Tanner is waiting.
I need to force my thoughts back in line, hammer reminders into myself about why I’m here and what I have to do.
And with every moment, the reasons only multiply.
One of them is the most unsettling of all, the frightening possibility that there might come a point when I no longer want to leave. There could be something, or rather someone, strong enough to keep me here.
A certain hot alpha.
The thought alone sparks a deep, visceral resistance in me, something that pulls hard at my conscience. I could never betray Senu.
So with a grumpy face, I turn my back and head toward the tables.
In the arena, an alpha I recognize is warming up. His name is Bashir.
He has a bare chest and a dragon tattoo on his back, the red and blue ink contrasting with the dark bronze of his skin.
His long black hair is braided from the crown of his head.
He looks impressive and muscular, but not as much as Eliano.
Also, Bashir has a slight hint of a beer belly, while Eliano’s body is pure muscle, chiseled to perfection.
Luckily, I manage to grab seats at one of the last free tables before the whole spectacle begins. Eliano, Evan, and Roman join me quickly with their trays. Eliano remembered about my tray, how nice of him. I didn’t bother to take any food, but he did, for me…
Not important, Salt!
I lift my eyes to the arena.
The ring is open on two sides and looks more like a bridge than a traditional fighting arena. Along one edge, a line of alphas has formed. There is also a green-haired Sector C employee named Pip.
Soon, Pip waves his hand, and someone else turns on music that is wild, fast, and pulsing with energy.
Evan mentions that Bashir has been undefeated for the past year, ever since another alpha, a former boxer, left the island after successfully getting his beta pregnant.
Evan also points out a table off to the side, where a young guy is standing.
"That’s Bashir’s beta, Fred."
The guy is cheering, jumping, and clapping loudly.
The employee, Pip, lifts his hands as if to give the signal to start.
The first alpha from the line charges toward Bashir at a run.
Evan leans in toward us and explains quietly,
"Each alpha has fifteen seconds to try to knock Bashir down, or he gets knocked out himself. If the attacker fails, he has to run off."
Sure enough, the first alpha barrels at Bashir like a battering ram, as if he wants to mow him down. Bashir is quicker, though. He steps aside and lands a clean punch to the side of the guy’s jaw. The alpha stumbles and has to grab the ropes to stay upright.
The timer sounds.
The next alpha rushes in, and the first exits the ring through the opposite open side.
The second does not try to ram him. He goes for a fast right hook, but Bashir seems to anticipate it, dodges, and kicks him hard in the shin.
Then another alpha follows, again trying to bulldoze his way through and failing. Then a fourth, swinging wildly with heavy fists.
This goes on for fifteen minutes.
Eventually, even excited Evan jumps up and runs to join the line, eager to test himself against Bashir, but none of them manage to take him down.
Unexpectedly, as the line of alphas grows shorter, Jeff approaches our bench.
It’s the same guy we ran into after leaving the medical office, the one who tried to convince Eliano to join Last Man Standing, only this time he’s not with his Instagram-perfect beta, Shane.
"So, what about you? Want to give it a shot? Bashir’s tired, you’d have a good chance at the end."
Eliano shakes his head.
"I’m just watching for now. I only arrived on the island today. Thanks for the offer, but I need some time to look around first."
"Don’t make us wait too long. Everyone’s curious whether there’s finally someone on the island worthy of the show," Jeff grins, showing his teeth.
Something inside me overloads, maybe guilt over my own behavior? One thing’s for sure: I snap.
"The fuck?! Just leave him alone, would you? He said no. Does he have to spell it out for you?"
The whole table turns to stare at me. The silence is intense, but I feel a buzz of unhealthy excitement. The entire misfire of a conversation I had with Eliano is still bothering me, and I just let the adrenaline out. "We just got here, so leave us the fuck alone!"
Jeff’s upper lip curls slightly, and he ignores me like a typical alpha, throwing the comment at Eliano instead.
"Keep your beta in line."
That’s it. I’ve had enough.
I grab the tall glass of black currant juice Roman brought for himself and splash it all over Jeff’s white T-shirt. Some of it hits his face.
What happens next is so fast I can’t even react. An alpha’s reflexes are about four times quicker than a beta’s, so all I catch is a blur of movement.
I guess Jeff probably took a swing at me, but what I see is that he’s suddenly no longer standing straight.
He’s bent forward, his cheek pressed into the table, somewhere between the fried zucchini and the crispy golden potatoes.
His right arm is twisted behind his back and yanked up high enough that his face contorts in pain. Eliano keeps it there, pressing harder until Jeff’s wrist is almost between his shoulder blades.
Eliano leans in close to his ear. "Wanna take a swing? Take it at me. Leave the betas out of it."
Jeff lets out a low grunt.
"Got it?" Eliano whispers threateningly.
Jeff nods, a flat slice of tomato stuck to his cheek.
Eliano lets him go. Jeff curses, rolling his shoulder like he’s checking if it’s still intact, then takes a step back.
"Damn! I came here in peace and this is what I get? Shame on you," he growls, but there’s a conciliatory edge to it.
He backs off, then turns and walks away like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.
Only then do I notice how many people are staring at us. Not just our table. The whole place.
From across the plaza, I spot Shane. His long, pale hair makes him easy to pick out. He’s standing there with his hands pressed to his chest, staring at his alpha.
When Jeff walks up to him, Shane immediately starts wiping his face with a napkin.
I turn back to Eliano.
He’s unbelievably calm. He sits down and starts gathering the potatoes off the table like nothing happened. No comment. No reaction. Like the whole thing was just… a non-issue.